One Life One Chance Read online

  We arrived into Penitentes after lunch and settled into one of the ski fields lodges, almost entirely vacant due to it being summer and there not being a flake of snow on the ground. Matias wanted to get us up to the top of the fields that afternoon for an acclimatisation hike. I’m sure he also did this to check how everybody moved while hiking and if we had any injured or unfit members in our team. It was a nice steady hike, two hours up to the top of a series of gondolas that in winter would be loaded with people but now swung idle. With a quick break at the top, it was back down in forty-five minutes with no signs of weakness from anybody. We had a solid team and were all eager to set off the next day.

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  The expedition gear was broken into mule loads the following morning. The mules would carry 60 kilograms per animal and stay with us for three days until we reached our base camp. We had ten mules, and it was great to mingle in and load up these sturdy creatures. The noble mule featured in many of the adventure books I had read, assisting men and women across arduous terrain and into the mountains for centuries. The main trail towards Aconcagua started just outside of Penitentes at a ranger outpost, where we had our permits stamped by a friendly guy who wished us all the best. As soon as I turned away from the outpost and took my first step along the trail I knew this was it, my first big adventure, my first big mountain and my first big test since the military. I wondered to myself whether I would have what it takes to stand on the summit.

  It was a slow and silent walk that first day, everybody seemed to be deep in their own thoughts about the days to come. We paralleled a stream for the first hour and passed a few small lakes that provided water to the cattle in these low-lying hills. Mountaineering isn’t a race, it’s actually some of the slowest hiking you will ever do. A slow approach while gaining altitude is the best way to let the body adapt and acclimatise safely. To rush into a big expedition is asking for altitude sickness at best and severe cerebral or pulmonary oedema at worst. After six hours of steady progress we arrived at what looked to be some old ranch stables, and our camping spot for the night, at 2800 metres elevation.

  We unloaded the mules who were taken away to be watered and fed and set up our tents close to the stables. Once the mules had been tended the mule drivers cooked us an Argentinian barbecue, a tradition for the first night in the mountains. The smell of the meat cooking over an open fire was mouth-watering and it tasted absolutely amazing. It could easily have been one of the best barbecues I had ever eaten; coming from an Australian that’s a big compliment. I washed down dinner with a locally brewed herb tea called mati, which had an extremely strong flavour and an overall pleasant taste. I slipped into my sleeping bag early and fell into a deep sleep of the overly fed.

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  At 6.45 am the following morning Matias was eager to get on the trail in the cool early hours. We had our tent down and gear packed up within thirty-five minutes, which is fast and easy to do when you have perfect weather conditions. When we got up high with big winds and colder temperatures it was bound to take us much longer. It was 5 degrees Celsius overnight, which should have made me cold, but I was sweltering inside my sleeping bag. I checked the tag on my bag and it read ‘rated to minus 67 degrees Celsius’. It became clear my sleeping bag purchase was perfect for Antarctica but was going to give me a greenhouse effect any other time.

  As we started onto the trail with the mules following close behind, I settled into the same slow and steady pace as the day before. The first couple of hours after leaving the stable camp were nice and cool for trekking, with a slight breeze sweeping down through the valley. As the sun rose above the mountain range to our east the temperature skyrocketed. We were having regular breaks to hydrate and take in food and by the middle of the afternoon the heat had really set in. The breeze had disappeared and as the trail wound around to the west the sun was directly in our faces. Beads of sweat were dripping from my nose and even at this snail’s pace I could feel my back beneath my pack slowly soaking through. Just as I was thinking about needing another break the peak of Aconcagua poked up on the horizon and all my worries disappeared.

  The scene in front of me was stunning with low mountains in the foreground and the snow-covered summit of the biggest peak in South America towering over it all. The snow glistened in the afternoon sun and the black rock of the windswept summit ridge gave it a rugged and daunting contrast. As I gazed up and stumbled due to not watching my footing, it dawned on me how far we really had to go and how much work it was going to take to reach the top. Shortly after my humbling reflection on the task at hand, we arrived at our second camping site, and as the mules wandered in we were setting up tents and kicking our boots off. We had been going for six hours and forty-five minutes, which was slightly longer than the day before, yet I felt energised after laying eyes on our goal. Our altitude was steadily rising and I crawled into bed at 3200 metres above sea level.

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  Crossing rivers in mountainous country or around snow and glaciers should never be taken lightly. I remember crossing rivers in the jungle and in the outback while training with the Army back in Australia and never thought of it as much of a challenge. It wasn’t until crossing a river like the one we crossed the morning of day three that I understood people’s concern. The rivers in these areas are created from glacial melt and often contain silt that gives it a light brownish tint. The crossing we had to make was only knee deep and after removing my boots and socks I strolled in boldly but when the icy water made contact with my skin it felt like my legs had been set on fire. The water was so cold it went beyond freezing and sent a shock wave up through my body. I shuffled onwards trying not to show too much concern on my face as I lost all feeling below the knees.

  Reaching the other side I dashed away to a large rock bathed in the morning sun and started to rub some sense back into my legs. My feet were white and frozen to the touch, I immediately thought I had frostbite and then dismissed the idea before vocalising it and embarrassing myself. As I dried my feet and the sun warmed new life into them, the others made their way across one by one. It would be near impossible and borderline life-threatening to swim a river like that and I hoped I would never have to try. We carried on for the remainder of the day making our slow progress towards base camp. Aconcagua slipped in and out of view throughout the day and seemed to be watching and judging us, deciding whether we were worthy.

  Our arrival at base camp late that afternoon concluded our three-day approach and gave me a small sense of achievement. I knew it was only the beginning but I was feeling physically and mentally strong, especially after the day’s gain of 1000 metres in altitude. Base camp was called Plaza de Argentina and sits at 4200 metres above sea level, 2000 metres higher than Australia’s highest mountain. Our tent sites at base camp needed to be bombproof, as we were now in an area prone to very high winds and extreme swings in weather. Matias warned us again about the team in December losing their tents and having to abandon the expedition. While piling rocks around my tent and tying off support ropes I started to feel light-headed and had a pounding headache. I was in acclimatisation mode and according to Matias this was totally normal after such a big gain in altitude. A strong drink of flavoured cordial and a piece of cake eased my symptoms and I fell asleep thinking of the adventures ahead.

  It was cold at night and my sleeping bag was starting to earn its place in keeping me warm. There is nothing worse than getting out of the tent at night to use the toilet, especially when it’s freezing, so I used a spare Nalgene water bottle as my nominated pee bottle. Afterwards I just had to make sure I didn’t get mixed up with which one I was drinking from. Throughout the night I had stages of thumping headaches and shortness of breath as my body adapted to less oxygen in the air. Day four was a scheduled rest day and all Matias wanted us to do was eat, drink lots of water and relax. We also had to get checked by the base camp doctor to make sure we were fit and healthy enough to continue up the mountain. This screening process is an initiative de
signed to limit the number of deaths on the mountain each year. To get stopped at this point by the doctor would be heartbreaking but if it saves lives then it’s well worth it.

  When it was my turn for the check-up I made my way over to the medical tent and sat down in front of the doctor. He was a lean and mountain-hardened Argentinian who spent weeks at a time at base camp looking after all of the climbers. He stuck a small device on my finger to check the oxygen saturation levels in my blood and it registered great with a level of 91. Next was my heart rate, which was normal and then my blood pressure; as the doc released the air from the pressure band on my arm I was expecting the thumbs up but instead was told your pressure is up. I was sitting at 160/80 and he told me this was at the limit for letting someone continue. I was slightly pissed off at the situation because I was feeling great but I calmed down knowing he was just doing his job and keeping me safe.

  I awoke the following day and was due to see the doctor again before breakfast. He had given me some pills to take after our last consult to bring my blood pressure down and he wanted to check their effectiveness. To my surprise it was now worse than before. I was at 180/80 and started to worry that he might send me down. I pleaded my case saying I was feeling fit and strong, and after a few minutes he agreed to let me do the day’s load-carry up to camp one but wanted to see me that night. He gave me a new batch of pills and I was out of the tent before he changed his mind.

  Load-carries are part of mountaineering; we had mules to get our equipment to base camp and now we had to separate it all equally between the team and start moving it up the mountain. We would do our first load-carry and then come back down to sleep as part of the acclimatisation process. Gaining elevation in the day but then allowing the body to recover back down lower is a tried and tested method for adapting to altitude. Matias brought some local porters over and told us that for a small fee they would carry our extra expedition gear up to camp one for us. A few of the team members opted to use the local porters and save their strength for the summit day but I wanted to carry mine myself. It was just a personal choice and a goal I set myself, to climb the mountain under my own power as much as possible.

  The first load-carry was a tough one, and gave me my first taste of hiking at elevation. It was an 800-metre elevation gain up to 5000 metres where camp one would be located. When trying to ascend a steep slope, the most direct route, straight up, is usually far too hard to attempt and when this is the case the path will start to switch back. First moving diagonally across the face then turning sharply to go diagonally across the other way. It takes slightly longer to reach the top but saves a lot of energy in getting there.

  Scree is a hiker’s worst nightmare; a scree slope is made up of tiny fragments of stone larger than sand but smaller than a box of matches. We crossed over one glacier that was covered with dirt and scree and then hit endless switchbacks up a scree field that was literally three steps up and one step back for what felt like an eternity. It was tough going with the extra weight but not impossible and we reached camp one in seven hours and forty minutes, where we rested. We stayed long enough to cache all of the equipment under some rocks, get pounding headaches and take in the amazing view. Then it was back down the scree field in a much more direct fashion, sliding semi–out of control all the way to the glacier.

  When I had pictured glaciers before the expedition I imagined beautiful ice structures shining blue and dusted in white snow like scenes from Antarctic documentaries. In reality a moving body of ice descending a mountain like this one becomes covered in the surrounding dirt and rubble and the glacier we were crossing looked like nothing more than a dirt field to the untrained eye. On closer inspection, I could dig down a few centimetres below the dirt and see the ice. It’s an amazing natural wonder and its sheer size and power baffles the mind.

  We all arrived safely back to base camp after a great day and with all the extra supplies securely cached up high. I consumed my body weight in chicken and rice and was then due back to my friendly doc for another check. My blood pressure was 170/80, better than it was in the morning but still not low enough to put the doc at ease. He gave me another handful of pills and told me to come back again in the morning. I was starting to get nervous about the whole situation, with the chance of being sent down becoming a real possibility. The following day was another scheduled rest and acclimatisation day. Everyone else in the team was relaxing while I made frequent trips to the doctor’s tent. First before breakfast with the same result and again before dinner with no change. The doctor gave me a new batch of pills and told me that if by the morning my blood pressure wasn’t down to at least 160 he wasn’t going to let me continue on with the team.

  In the meantime, Warwick decided to abandon his attempt on Aconcagua; he was our oldest member and wasn’t adapting to the altitude or physical stress our bodies were under. He was a great guy to have around and it was a morale blow to all of us to watch him break down his tent and pack up his gear. It seemed as though we had only just started to gel as a team and we were already losing a teammate. I respected his decision. It’s always better to turn around and have the option to come back another day, rather than push on and risk your life. Without knowing it at the time, I would soon have to make the same tough call in my adventure career and it’s an incredibly hard thing to do.

  I was in stress mode and as I lay in bed that night, thoughts of all my hard work and training being wasted due to one doctor’s decision consumed me. I took all the pills I had left over and thought I’d either get the result I wanted or slip into a coma; it was worth the risk. The next morning I tried to stay as calm as I could while making my way to the doctor’s tent at a snail’s pace. I lay down on the bed and went into zen mode as he wrapped the pressure pad around my arm. The doc did his thing and when I heard the air release from the pad I opened my eyes and looked square in his. He smiled and said ‘145’. I yelled in excitement, gave the doc a hug and raced from the tent before he changed his mind or realised he had botched the test.

  The rest of the team applauded the result and we all started to gear-up for the day’s work ahead of us. We were leaving base camp for good and moving up to camp one with the rest of our equipment. I knew what was in store for us that day as I pulled on my pack, which felt heavier than it had on the load-carry day, knowing it was going to be a tough slog up to 5000 metres. A few of the team opted for porters again and once we were all ready to move, Matias stepped off in the lead. It was a cooler than average day, which made the hiking more comfortable and the scree field switchbacks less of a heartbreak. Halfway to camp one it started to snow, a light dusting of beautiful white flakes descending upon us. It was such a beautiful scene, with the snow turning the brown and grey scree into a thinly veneered snowfield. We finished our day in a shorter time than our load-carry and everyone was feeling great as we settled into camp and bombproofed our tents for the coming days.

  It was a bitterly cold night and for the first time on the trip I needed to zip my sleeping bag almost fully closed. My water bottle, which was normally secured firmly inside my bag, had fallen out during the night and was now a snow cone. It was a bad start to the morning when I woke up desperate for a drink of water and grabbed my bottle, only to be greeted by something resembling crushed ice. My pee bottle was in the same state of affairs and I needed it to defrost in the morning sun before I could empty it.

  As we moved higher and the temperatures dropped, getting ready in the morning started taking longer. I’d sleep in my long thermal pants and top, then I would pull my trekking pants on and add a second cotton layer to my upper body. I’d also wear a fleece vest over those two layers and a shell rain jacket over the top of everything. If it started snowing or if we had rain I’d pull on my waterproof pants. For summit day I had a down jacket and down pants to go over everything again. On my feet I first had thick socks, then a foam-layer inner boot that fit inside my big, double layer mountaineering boots with built-in gaiters that covered halfway
up my lower leg. Crampons could be fitted to my boots when we hit the snow and ice. On my hands I had thin liner gloves then thick mountaineering gloves over the top, and if it started getting really cold I had down mitts to pull on as well. On my head I had a buff to cut the wind and protect my face, a beanie and UV glasses or goggles to protect my eyes. It was a mountain of clothing to pull on every time but once I had a system in place it became much easier.

  For breakfast that morning I consumed cake dipped in warm water; my throat was dry from breathing deeply throughout the night due to the lack of oxygen and the cake soothed it perfectly. After some strong coffee and morning rituals Matias wanted to crack on with a load-carry up to camp two. Camp two was uncharted territory and sat 500 metres above us at 5500 metres, which is slightly higher than the base camp of Mount Everest. We divided up the loads as we had done previously and those opting for porters palmed off the extra weight onto the hardened mountain men. We stepped off with Matias in the lead and I could immediately feel the effects of the altitude on my performance. An hour into it I was panting like I had just run a 100-metre sprint yet I was moving at a snail’s pace. It was steep scree and rock fields most of the way, with a cold headwind blasting down the trail. As hard as it was, when I took the time to rest and look out at the surrounding mountains and valleys it was an amazing view. The incredible, snow-capped peaks stretched for miles; this was something not many people would ever get to see and it made all the effort well worth it.